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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649754">gimme gimme</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika'>kinpika</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>"What are we" they don't ask in the middle of the night, Back at it again with the painful soft stuff, M/M, no real spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:41:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,059</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Bastards snuck up on me.” Pause, beat. “Who text you?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Without missing a beat, he breathes. “V, I—Doesn’t matter.”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kerry Eurodyne/Male V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gimme gimme</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>back at it again</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Hold on</em>, is what the loud voice in the corner of his eye says. Hand raised, perhaps the most honest V could remember, as the lock blinks green. Sliding open, and V. Doesn’t stop to raise the gun, pulled from under pillow. Held up with one hand that wobbles, finding a mark somewhere between two shoulders, flash of gold greeted by the lights that barely make it in through the window, this high up.</p>
<p>“Ker?” His voice crackles in his own ears, no doubt probably sounding worse from that far across the room. Licks his lips, as V rolls over a little further over, rubbing his eyes. Waking up again. No full words. “‘re doin’ here?”</p>
<p>“Sound like shit.” Cap abandoned somewhere near the desk, his jacket thrown over the lounge. V watches him at an angle, toeing off his boots as he makes his way across the floor.</p>
<p>And he wants to say something funny. Tell him it wasn’t flattering from down here. Except there is a flash of blue in Kerry’s eyes, shutters pulling down over the window. Lights dimming once more. Connected in, with something filtering out through the stereo, but that doesn’t stop him from shoving a hand in V’s side.</p>
<p>“Move. Over, come on.”</p>
<p>V groans, where everything is all still sore. Slapped together grazes and wounds, weeping under bandages. For effect, though, because the world sits a hazy sort of purple and blue, Kerry grumbling in his ear. Blood on the sheets.</p>
<p>“Slept in worse.”</p>
<p>“How would you know?”</p>
<p>Two fingers, tapped to the side of his head. Can’t smother the quirk of lips, as there was a sigh from somewhere in the opposite corner. Gone, wisp of smoke the only thing left. Johnny Silverhand exits, pursued by a bear.</p>
<p>Kerry takes his hands. Rewired and bound together once more, but they’re still his. Held against his chest as Kerry moulds to him. Lips against his shoulder. “Got a message you took a few too many hits.”</p>
<p>“Bastards snuck up on me.” Pause, beat. “Who text you?”</p>
<p>Without missing a beat, he breathes. “V, I—Doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>“Y’worried?” V doesn’t turn. Wide eyed, staring at the wall before him. Maybe Kerry can tell he tenses, just as he can when posed the question. Neon lights, flashing over their heads, solid and strong. <b>What Was This?</b> Bundled up under his covers, where he was bordering on unconscious in more than sixty seconds, and Kerry smelt of one too many cigarettes, nerves. Did they dare put a name here, now?</p>
<p>His grip tightens. “Can’t let the sheets run out of material just yet.”</p>
<p>If Johnny were still buzzing around, he would laugh. That kind of mean spirited one he had sometimes, where he was too worldly, too knowledgeable. Knew Kerry inside and out, despite being six feet under for half a century. V thinks that loud enough, that maybe Johnny would hear. Maybe there would be some narcissistic wisdom in his words.</p>
<p>The kind that stopped him from rolling over, sore shoulder, in Kerry’s arms. Just as drawn in, all tight brows, tight eyes. Where the lines between memories blur, and he doesn’t look like he’s changed, still watching everyone walk away.</p>
<p>And lie.</p>
<p>“I’m fine,” is what V says. Loud and clear. “Been through worse.”</p>
<p>Wasn’t meant to be a stab at the relic, but damn near close enough there was that pinch again. Flick of eyes, to his ear. No doubt trying to find the port, there. Not as subtle as he could’ve been, but there was no point in hiding that now.</p>
<p>“Didn’t have to come here if you didn’t want to, Ker. Can handle it myself.”</p>
<p>There are shadows and there is movement. Kerry pushing himself back. All twisted up in himself, hand through hair, as he finally sighs. Catch and release, leaving V to one side of the bed. “I’ll go. Good to see you, V.” And he’s sitting up, moving to grab a nearby shoe. Falling back on the edge of the bed as he tries to shove a foot into a boot with too much meaning.</p>
<p>V pushes himself up. It hurts like hell, but he gets one arm around Kerry’s waist. Fingers that curl into the material of his shirt, not letting go. Who was he kidding? Really, he was such a fucking idiot, anyway. No point playing the goddamn game when he didn’t know the rules. Not when he’s pressing his forehead between blades, letting his own sigh leave him. Neither of them move, too wound up. Too caught up.</p>
<p>Too stubborn in saying <em>it.</em> Magic words that make it real.</p>
<p>(I want you. I need you. I miss you.)</p>
<p>“Sing that song for me again? From the boat.”</p>
<p>A degree of separation from the truth, because it’s all to much of a tongue twister to really get it out. When the sun was up, V might try again. And again and again and again, because he was a realist some times of the day. Especially when Kerry turns, just enough, to cut a sharp figure from the side.</p>
<p>“Not finished yet.”</p>
<p>“Then the abridged version.”</p>
<p>His brows give him away. He’s more expressive than he probably realises, or wants to know. “Don’t have a guitar.”</p>
<p>V falls back against the bed, then. Pats beside him. “Always been a fan of <em>a capella.</em>”</p>
<p>Kerry scoffs. High and mighty and kicks his shoe off once more. Noise of it lost in the way that there is no answer to the question, but there are no more questions. Sated and quiet and just the hum thrum. Cyberware and honest to god Kerry Eurodyne. Lips barely parted, as he finds fascination in the way their hands are clasped. As V’s lids start to feel heavy once more.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, tomorrow. It’s always about tomorrow. Screamsheets and gossip columns. Wrapped up in the assumption that maybe it was just a one time thing that V harboured, close to the chest. Don’t let it broach the skin, or it becomes too real.</p>
<p>Last thing he sees before he closes his eyes was Kerry. Whispered song and warm eyes. V will remember texts and hints and mail left open on the computer. Doesn’t want to put the pieces together, or he does. Or he doesn’t. Or he’s pressed up against Kerry’s shoulder, gone.</p>
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